


Partial Beginning

by Lleu



Category: Riddle-Master Trilogy - Patricia A. McKillip
Genre: Established Relationship, Feelings, Library Sex, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: “Morgon, why didn’t…why didn’t you tell me you were going to challenge Peven?”“I did. I told you two years ago when we had sat up all night asking each other riddles...”





	Partial Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> thanks elrhiarhodan for inspiring me to be the Morgon/Rood College fic I want to see in the world. I thought it might be a nice change of pace to get a glimpse of Morgon in the middle of his studies, a confident aspiring riddle-master, rather than Morgon the Prince of Hed, caught up in life-and-death riddles. I hope you enjoy this!

_“I should have known it would not be some powerful, nightmarish figure — it would be something even more unexpected. We have been expecting anyone but you.”_

*

you expected many things, but never Morgon of Hed. you laughed when he introduced himself — until you realized he wasn’t joking. he _was_ the land-heir of Hed, here to study riddle-mastery. that was the first of many surprises.

*

_“Morgon, why didn’t...why didn’t you tell me you were going to challenge Peven?”_

_“I did. I told you two years ago when we had sat up all night asking each other riddles, studying for the Blue of Partial Beginning.”_

*

“Morgon.”

he doesn’t answer, so you say again, less gently, “ _Morgon_.”

“hm?” he looks up, over the pile of books and papers scattered across the table. you’re the last two left in the College library; the examination isn’t even until next week — the other students in your cohort are off sleeping, or drinking, or sleeping after drinking. it’s almost morning — you can see a faint but increasing light in the east windows.

“your mind was somewhere else,” you say. “instead of on the stricture I just gave you.”

“sorry,” he says. he still sounds distracted; you close the book in front of you and look straight at him.

“what are you thinking about?“

for a long moment he says nothing; then: “I’m going to win the crown of Peven of Aum.”

you blink. of the many things you imagined he might be thinking, that was not one of them. all you can think to say is, “oh.”

“not _now_ ,” he clarifies, and you relax a little. “I’m not _totally_ stupid. when I’m ready, though.”

“all right.” you believe him, too.

you’re both silent for a while, lost in thought. you wonder, not for the first time, if you should tell Morgon about your father’s promise, the reason _you’re_ here. _no_. (the thought that he might leave, that he might leave _you_ , scares you a little. you don’t know what you’d do without him.) then Morgon abruptly closes both of the books he’d been poring over.

“let’s go.” he looks at you, and you recognize the expression on his face. you raise an eyebrow and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. 

“we should reshelve the books first,” you say, half-heartedly, but Morgon, already standing up, just shakes his head, his eyes twinkling.

“we’ll be back before anyone notices.” he walks around the table and offers you his hand. you take it and let him pull you to your feet, leaving your books behind.

it’s not the first time Morgon has pulled you into the shadows behind the farthest row of shelves and kissed you — or that you’ve allowed yourself to be pulled and kissed. (you wonder, occasionally, what your father — or Duac, or Raederle, or Morgon’s parents, or, really, _anyone_ — would think if they could see you.) his hand slides down between your legs, where you’re already getting hard, and you hum into the kiss; you feel him smile, and then he pulls away and down, onto his knees while he undoes your belt.

“Morgon...” you whisper as he takes you in his mouth, his tongue dancing around the head of your cock. “ _fuck_.”

he’s too busy to answer you for a while, and even after — gasping — you fill his mouth with your seed, you’re preoccupied yourself, on your knees, returning the favor. (more than a favor.)

“ _Rood_ ,” he sighs as he cums, and just for a moment you think you could live in the way he says your name. he slides, then, down the wall onto the floor next to you, breathing hard. you swallow ( _bitter_ , you think) and move to lean against the wall with him. he lets his head rest on your shoulder and sighs again, content. “thanks.”

you half-smile. “I didn’t realize the riddle of Thanet Ross would get you going like this.”

Morgon laughs once, loud and earnest (you love the way he laughs, like he’s still in Hed, untroubled by the court drama you grew up with), then quickly covers his mouth. you both listen, but there’s no sign that anyone heard you.

“sorry,” you whisper.

“don’t be,” he whispers back. “never be.” he kisses you again, then, and for a while you just sit in companionable silence. _I love you_ , you think. _I love you_.

the eastern sky is full of colors when you collect yourselves and go back to your books. (back to other riddles.)

*

_“You heard my father. I’m no longer even a riddler. You’ll have to answer that one, Riddle-Master.”_

*

he comes to you again in Anuin (or, really, since he’s already there when you arrive, you come to _him_ ), when you least expect it — although, you think ruefully, you should have known he’d be there.

“Rood.” he catches you off-guard in the corridor outside the library (of course). you find, not for the first time, that you don’t know what to say to him. he moves, with an awkwardness you don’t recognize, towards you, then stops. the silence drags on. finally, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“for what?” you ask. “‘answer the unanswered riddle.’ that’s what I told you to do.“

he laughs, and there’s a bitterness in it that you’re not used to. _I don’t know him anymore_ , you think. “I suppose it is,” he says. “still...” a breath. “I never wanted to leave you.”

_come back_ , you want to say — so, impulsively, you do: “come back, then. that’s all I ask.”

he gives you a long look, then nods gravely. “I swear it. if I don’t —”

you cut him off. “if you don’t, I don’t think there will be anything for you to come back _to_ in the first place. just.” you close your eyes and sigh. “answer the unanswered riddle. and then come back to us.” _to me_.

his eyes soften and he crosses the remaining distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. you bury your face in his shoulder. _come back. come back. come back_.

he kisses you then. “I will come back.”

*

_Peace, tremulous, unexpected, sent a taproot out of nowhere into Morgon’s heart._

*

and he does.


End file.
